


The Games We Play

by memorysdaughter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, Games, Kissing, Paintball, inadvertent "blindspot" crossover in the second flashback, inappropriate charades
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6110101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorysdaughter/pseuds/memorysdaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, if I told anyone about this, they'd call me crazy."</p>
<p>"Tell them what?  That once a week, the Avengers get together and play games?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Games We Play

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cathybites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathybites/gifts).



“You know, if I told anyone about this, they’d call me crazy.”

Natasha looked over at Maria. “Tell them what?  That once a week the Avengers get together and play games?”

Maria nodded. “That, and the fact that afterwards you and I generally fight over who played better… and then end up making out.”

“I like that part,” Natasha said with a wicked grin.

“And someone always manages to get in trouble, and it’s generally _you_ ,” Maria said.  She straightened the throw pillows on the couch.

“Really?” Natasha asked innocently, desperately squashing the impulse to flop down on the couch and ruin Maria’s settled throw pillow arrangement.

“Do I need to remind you about the time we played charades?”

 

* * *

 

The Time They Played Charades

“I can’t believe Steve suggested we play charades,” Natasha grumbled.

Maria looked up from the bowls of oatmeal and fruit she was preparing for breakfast. “And I can’t believe you still won’t eat oatmeal for breakfast.”

“You mean porridge?”

Maria sighed. “Fine.  Porridge.”

“You’re just lucky Maximoff has no taste buds.” Natasha reached into the cabinet for the Raisin Bran. “Do we _have_ to play charades?”

“You’re not a whiner,” Maria said, “and you’re a stickler for the rules, so stop the yap coming out of that beautiful mouth.  The rules say that everybody gets a week to pick a game.  This week is Steve’s turn and for better or for worse, he’s old-fashioned.”

Natasha dumped Raisin Bran into a bowl. “I just feel like we’re getting bogged down in terrible games.”

“And I feel like you’re only saying that because we haven’t had a drinking game since it was Wanda’s turn two months ago…”

Natasha rolled her eyes.

“… and if you’ll recall, she drank us all under the table and you called off training for two days.”

“Who knew such a tiny thing could hold her liquor like that?”

“She’s from an Eastern European country…”

“And I’m from _Russia!_   What’s your point?”

Maria finished slicing a banana and turned towards the redhead, planting a kiss squarely on her mouth. “I don’t think I had one.”

“Fine, fine,” Natasha grumbled, her cheeks pink. “We’ll play Steve’s Depression-era charades.”

There was a knock on the door.  Maria carried the bowls of oatmeal over to the table and went to let Wanda in.

Natasha sat down at the table with her Raisin Bran. “You don’t have to knock, Maximoff.”

“But you were kissing,” Wanda said innocently.

Natasha’s head jerked up. “You don’t have to knock, but you _definitely_ have to stay out of our heads.”

Mildly, Wanda replied, “I wasn’t in anyone’s head.  You always kiss in the kitchen in the morning.  It’s just safer to knock.”

Maria laughed. “She’s got a point.  You want some juice, Wanda?”

“Yes, please.” Wanda sat down at the table, carrying her usual thermos of tea (made in a samovar and prepared exactly how she liked it) and a thick book, which was neither usual nor unusual. “I am excited for the games night tonight.”

“Tasha isn’t,” Maria said, bringing over two glasses of cranberry juice.

Wanda accepted hers. “No?”

“It’s just… it’s a boring game,” Natasha said.

“The Captain is very excited about it,” Wanda said.

Natasha narrowed her eyes.

“I was not in his head,” Wanda protested. “He was telling Colonel Rhodes about it when I walked past the living room moments ago.”

Maria laughed. “Face it, Tash.  We’re playing charades.  Better brush up on your acting skills.”

“You’re right,” Natasha said. “We’d better just cancel training so I can figure out how to look like Sean Connery or Cleopatra.”

“Really?” Wanda asked.

“Never mind,” Maria said. “You don’t need to brush up on your skills at all.”

Natasha grinned.

 

“Tasha, you’ve been locked in the bathroom for an hour.  If you’re going to try to tell me you’re sick, I’m not falling for it.  I fell for it once when Sam wanted us to play Candy Land, and _never again_.  That was the most torturous three hours I ever spent with a group of people other than the time SHIELD fell and I had to go answer to the Joint Chiefs of Staff.  It’s time to go, so get out here.”

“I’m in the shower!”

“No, you’re not.  I don’t hear it running.”

“I’m on the phone!”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m… I’m pregnant.”

“Jesus, Tash,” Maria muttered.  She raised her voice. “Open the door in the next ten seconds or I’m telling everyone the baby’s Richard Simmons’.”

The door nearly immediately flew open. “I’m ready,” Natasha said.

“That’s my girl,” Maria said, patting Natasha’s cheek. “Afraid of the Simmons, are we?”

“Too much spandex,” Natasha replied.  She slipped her hand into Maria’s and began leading her girlfriend away from their bathroom.

“One issue at a time,” Maria said.

She didn’t look back (why would she, now that Natasha was cooperating?) but if she had, she would have seen a pen and little slips of paper littering the bathroom sink.

And as they walked towards the door, Natasha quickly tucked a few stray slips of paper into her pocket.   _I hope Steve’s ready for the best game of charades he’s ever played._

When they arrived at Steve’s quarters, the rest of the team had already gathered.  Helen Cho was talking to Sam next to a bowl of Doritos while Steve and Rhodey were placing drinks on the kitchen counter; Vision nodded as Steve related some anecdote to him.

While Maria went to place their contribution – a pan of homemade macaroni and cheese – with the other foods, Natasha poked her head into the living room.  Wanda was the only one there, curled up on the couch.

_Perfect_.  Natasha slipped silently across the room to the basket of already-prepared charade suggestion slips and began removing her own from her pockets.  She put them in with the others and quickly stirred the slips.  _Doesn’t even look like it’s been touched_.

A small smile on her face, Natasha headed back into the kitchen.

“How is she?” Steve asked her.

Natasha looked at him in confusion. “Who?”

“Wanda.  I thought you were in there checking on her,” Steve said.

“Oh, yeah, I was,” Natasha said quickly. “She’s… asleep.”

“She’s exhausted,” Sam said. “You guys must’ve run her ragged at training.”

“Tasha runs everyone ragged,” Maria said with a smirk.

“Only on the weekends,” Natasha said, snagging two beers from the counter and handing one to Maria. “And on your birthday if you dress up cute.”

Dinner was served shortly thereafter, and by seven-thirty the dishes were done and the group found themselves gathering in the living room with their drinks.  Natasha slid into an armchair, half on top of Maria, and put one arm around the other woman’s neck. “I’m so ready for this,” Maria said. “Just blowing off steam, not thinking about potential international crises or the ensuing paperwork.”

“I’m ready for it too,” Natasha said, thinking of the suggestions she’d slipped into the basket.

“Okay, guys, I assume everyone knows how to play charades,” Steve said, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically. “So we’ll just get started.  Who wants to go first?”

The group looked around.  No one immediately volunteered.

“Why don’t you go first?” Natasha proposed. “You know, since this is your pick and all.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Sam agreed.

“Yeah, Cap, show us how it’s done.” Maria raised her beer.

“Uh, sure,” Steve said.  He drew a slip out of the basket and looked down at it. “Um, okay…”

He held up two fingers.

“Two words,” Rhodey said.

Steve mimed opening a book.

“A book,” Helen guessed.

Steve held up one finger.

“First word…” Maria prompted.

Steve patted his stomach and looked sad.

“Stomachache,” Vision offered. “Abdominal pain.”

“One word,” Wanda whispered to him.

“Appendicitis,” Natasha said.

Steve shook his head and patted his stomach again.

“Hungry…?” Sam suggested.

Steve nodded, then held up two fingers.

“Second word…” Sam tilted his head. “Hungry… hungry man?  Hungry guy?”

“Hunger Games?” Helen asked.

Steve nodded and grinned, clapping. “Nice job!”

“God, that was excruciating,” Natasha muttered.  _And also not one of the suggestions I put in there.  Damn._

Maria pinched her.

Helen went next, and the group managed to come up with the correct answer: “Gone With the Wind.”

Vision had the turn afterwards, and appeared utterly confused.  Natasha got her hopes up, but then the android turned to Steve. “I do not believe I can adequately express the magnitude of this idea in simple actions.  Perhaps if we had a whiteboard and some dry-erase markers.”

“Sorry, Vizh, that’s not the game,” Steve said. “Actions only.”

A frustrating twelve minutes later, Vision somehow got Wanda to shout out, “The solar system!”

Natasha guessed there was telepathy involved.

Apparently everyone else did, too, because Wanda went bright red.

“We’ll let that one slide,” Steve said. “Since the solar system is, in fact, difficult to express in actions.”

“Maximoff, you’re up,” Natasha said, and gently prodded the girl with her foot.

Wanda got to her feet hesitantly and approached the basket.  She drew one out and looked down at it.  Her face went from bright red to extremely pale, and when she looked back up at the group her eyes were glowing red.

“Jesus,” Sam said.

“Is that a guess, or are you cursing, Mr. Wilson?” Vision asked.

Maria’s beer bottle exploded, and Natasha was dumped unceremoniously on the floor as Maria jumped to her feet.

“What is it?” Steve wanted to know.  He took a few steps towards Wanda and stopped.  Her hair was crackling with red energy, and she held up a hand pulsing with the same.

“I will _not_ ,” she managed to get out.

Natasha heard the soft _click_ of a gun being readied for firing, and she whipped her head towards Maria, who had her weapon drawn but lowered, prepared but not aimed.

There was a sharp crack and the various bowls of snacks imploded.

“Don’t kill her,” Helen said nervously to Maria.

“I’m not going to kill her,” Maria said.

“Give me that,” Natasha said.

Maria reluctantly handed over her gun.

Both of the lamps in the room exploded and everyone was simultaneously knocked off their feet.

 

* * *

 

“… and that’s why you’ve been banned from picking a game for the past year,” Maria said.

“I think you might be exaggerating.”

“I _never_ exaggerate.”

“She didn’t knock us all out… just _most_ of us.  And you didn’t have a gun.”

“I had a Taser.  And how did you _not_ realize our Jewish Avenger might have a problem acting out ‘Hitler on a bicycle during the Tour de France’?”

“To be fair, I was really hoping Vision would get that one.” Natasha shrugged. “Can’t plan perfectly for everything, now can you?”

“You’re impossible.  Help me with the snacks, will you?”

Natasha followed Maria into the kitchen and pulled vegetables from the fridge. “Well, what about that time you thought it might be fun to take us to play paintball?”

 

* * *

 

The Time They Played Paintball

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t know what to tell you,” the scruffy man in a camouflage jacket said apologetically. “The FBI booked the course ‘round the same time you did.  They’ve got a right to be here too.”

Maria tapped her foot impatiently. “I thought you had two courses.”

“Oh, we do,” the man said. “’Cept one’s bein’ torn up right now ‘cause of Uncle Buddy’s funeral, so we’ve just got the one.”

Natasha totally wanted the rest of _that_ story, but before she could ask the paintball course attendant to go on, Maria grabbed her hand and yanked her out of the tin-roofed building where weapons and ammunition were dispensed. “Okay, guys,” she said to the rest of the Avengers. “Looks like the FBI is here.”

“Shit,” Rhodey said. “What’d we do this time?”

“What?” Maria asked.

“They’re not here for us,” Natasha answered. “They also came to play paintball.”

“They do that?” Steve didn’t look convinced.

“We’re Avengers and we’re here,” Natasha told him.

Steve shrugged.

“Excuse me!” a man’s voice called across the parking lot.

The assembled Avengers – including Clint, who had come down for a visit – turned to see a group of people approaching them: a lean but sturdy-looking man with sandy hair who was obviously the leader; a well-dressed Latina woman; an African-American man in an orange beanie, a young-looking woman with blond hair and an irrepressible smile; a short, dark-skinned woman who looked distinctly out of place in casual clothing, as though she desperately missed a blazer and slacks; and a dark-haired woman whose visible skin from the neck down was covered in tattoos.

“Are you the folks who booked the course as well?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Maria said.

“Be _nice_ ,” Natasha murmured to her. “Last thing we need is the FBI on our case.”

The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Kurt, and this is the rest of the team – Zapata, Reade, Patterson, Mayfair, and Jane.  We were hoping we could sort of… team up, or face off, that way we’d both get to use the course.”

Natasha prodded Maria in the side, hard.  Maria sighed and stepped forward to shake Kurt’s hand. “I’m Maria, and…”

Before she could speak the young blond woman stepped towards Vision, a huge smile on her face. “You’re an android!” she breathed, almost reverently.

“Yes, I am,” Vision answered mildly.

“That’s so cool!” She turned to look at the Avengers. “What’s his operating system?  Is it Linux?”

“Um, no,” Steve said. “It’s…”

“A combination of metaphysical energy and a cellular matrix-building program developed by Dr. Helen Cho,” Vision said. “It’s very complicated to understand.”

“Patterson’s got like eight degrees,” Zapata, the Latina, said. “Give her twenty minutes; she’d get it.”

“Let’s just get started,” Maria suggested. “Sure, we’d be willing to face off against you all.”

“Awesome,” Kurt said. “Let’s get out there!”

They took a few minutes to go over the basic ground rules and then each team regrouped to discuss strategy.  The Avengers grouped around Maria, who had a map of the course, and watched as she indicated their battle plan.

“Clint, there’s a tree down this way I think would be a perfect look-out.  Steve, I want you and Natasha to take these corridors here.  Sam and Rhodey, you’re on their defenses.  Take ‘em out, leave ‘em guessing.  Wanda and Vision, you’re with me.  We’re going to circle around the back and hit them from both sides.”

“You know this is just for fun, right?” Rhodey raised his eyebrows.

Natasha put her arm around Maria. “Maria plays to win.”

“You’re damn right I do.  Everybody get their assignments?”

Wanda and Vision exchanged glances.  Natasha felt a gentle touch on the top of her head and heard Wanda’s voice, clear as day, inside her skull: _Agent Romanoff?  I am not interested in shooting guns at anyone.  I am interested in… something else._   The sentences were accompanied by a very clear picture of Vision’s face, followed by a picture of a cozy-looking forest copse.

Though startled (by the telepathy rather than its contents), Natasha did her best to maintain her composed facial expression.  It took her a moment, but she somehow got a handle on giving Wanda a reply.  _So don’t shoot anyone._

_Agent Hill seems as though she would be offended if we did not._

_So go off and make out with Vision.  I’ll figure something out_.

Across the clearing, Wanda’s cheeks went pink and she flashed Natasha a grateful smile.

“I think I should go with you to circle around back,” Natasha said out loud. “Let Steve take the charge by himself, and Maximoff and Vision can take the side corridors.”

“Thanks, Romanoff.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“No, it’s perfect!” Maria’s eyes lit up. “It’ll confuse them.”

The team split up with their respective assignments.  Natasha followed Maria down the path, scanning the landscape around them for a perfect spot to enact the fragment of a plan she’d pulled out of nowhere.  At last they came to an area that looked about right, just as the first muffled _pop-pop_ s of paintball guns rang through the still forest.

Natasha hesitated for just a second before she forced herself to trip and stumble to the ground, crying out in actual pain as her attempt to “trip” turned into an actual fall.  Pain seared up her leg.

Maria turned around. “Tasha?  You… oh, dear.”

Instantly Maria was next to her, kneeling on the ground.

“Just… help me back to the car,” Natasha muttered, regretting the plan.

“You need an ambulance!”

“I think I’m okay to walk,” Natasha said.  She grabbed onto Maria, trying to pull herself up.  The snow under Maria’s boots caught a slick patch and Maria tumbled onto the ground next to her, head cracking against a nearby log.

For a moment they just laid there on the ground, both breathing heavily.  Then footsteps approached swiftly, and the grinning blond who had admired Vision darted towards them.  Before either Maria or Natasha could reach for their weapons, she fired directly at them, and red splotches of paint appeared on their coats.  As quickly as she’d ambushed them, she was gone.

 

* * *

 

“… and that’s the story of how I broke my ankle, you got a concussion, and a young thing from the FBI – who I later found out is a forensic scientist and not some military sniper – bested a top SHIELD agent and a former KGB operative,” Natasha said.

“God, we’re such idiots.” Maria grimaced.

“Yeah, but at least you’re a _pretty_ idiot.” Natasha grabbed Maria and pushed her up against the counter, kissing the soft skin just under her jawline.

“Come on, Tash…” Maria murmured, leaning into the kiss. “They’ll be here soon.”

Natasha merely continued to kiss and nibble at Maria’s neck.  As she reached Maria’s ear, she whispered, “Or we could just tell them to forget about game night.”

“What?” Maria asked.

“Because as much fun as I’m having talking about games we play…” Natasha paused to move a kiss to Maria’s lips.

Maria pulled back. “Like the time we all had the flu and played Uno…”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Or the time Rhodey planned for us to go to laser tag but it was the day Sam went to the optometrist and they had to dilate his eyes and he nearly passed out from all the lights…”

“Shhh,” Natasha said, and kissed Maria a little more firmly. “There are so many other games I’d like to play, but… they’re not exactly group games.”

“Like… chess?” Maria asked, looking up at Natasha with mirth in her eyes.

Natasha grinned. “No.  Not like chess.  Think… less boards, more broads.”

As Natasha tugged Maria to their bedroom, Maria had a thought. “You know, if you’d just _told_ me that Wanda and Vision wanted to go make out at paintball, you wouldn’t have had to throw yourself at my feet.”

“Oh, please,” Natasha said. “I’m always throwing myself at your feet.  _That’s_ the only game I’m really good at.”

**Author's Note:**

> The characters mentioned in the vignette "The Time They Played Paintball" are from the NBC show "Blindspot." It's amazing, and you should watch it, and the only reason they showed up was because I can't stop watching it (and was in the middle of writing a chapter for a "Blindspot" fic while I tried to write this).


End file.
